


The Strangest Sensation

by amyfortuna



Category: Equilibrium (2002)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-17
Updated: 2009-10-17
Packaged: 2018-01-25 06:05:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1635515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyfortuna/pseuds/amyfortuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Preston remembers the past but lives in the present, and finally understands love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Strangest Sensation

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Ennorwen

 

 

There wasn't anything left of the world Preston used to know, just two scant years after the Resistance, with him at the forefront, swept triumphant across Libria. The first year was the most difficult, as without the doses suppressing serotonin release, the world had gone slightly insane, flooded with passion and radiant joy and sexual desire. He could remember the first heady days of it, people crying and kissing in the streets, being lifted out of his natural reserve by the sheer infectious joy that surrounded him, doing a little crying and kissing of his own. 

A lot of kissing, actually, now that he thought about it. And a lot more than just kissing, though thankfully not in the street. For whatever reason, the moment his eyes met Jurgen's across a street surging with people, face dusty from the furnaces that he would never burn in, eyes alight with laughter, he had known they were destined for each other. 

A few hours later as night fell, they'd finally managed to make more than just eye contact. The crowds were dying down now, sheer exhaustion taking its toll, returning to their homes with Resistance members in tow, there to celebrate and sleep and awake to a new day as the sun rose. Jurgen made his way over to Preston, who was sitting on the steps of the Hall of Justica, watching the light fade. 

"Come with me," Jurgen said softly, holding out a hand. Preston took his hand and shivered as sensation ran through him, passionate desire. It was like touching Mary's fingers, aching with want and need, but it was better, more vivid, not forbidden anymore. Preston stood and did not let go of Jurgen's hand, not knowing how to ask for what he wanted, praying Jurgen knew. 

The ghost of a smile lingered on Jurgen's features as he led Preston away. Then they returned to Preston's home to find his children waiting there. His children. He could not help but hug them closely, tears spilling over again. They, on the other hand, were far more composed, quiet, but happy. They were used to this by now, he understood. They had learned how to control their emotions on a daily basis without the use of any drugs. 

Jurgen stood by quietly as he embraced his son and his daughter as if he could never let go, all the emotion suppressed for years feeling like it had to spill out then and there. But eventually even the happiest of reunions had to end and his children headed off to bed, self-sufficient, fully as capable as any adults. 

"I have great hope for the future," Jurgen said as they left the room. Then he turned to meet Preston's eyes, and looked into him, and held out his hand once more. Preston held out both of his own and they came together in a kiss as natural as breathing. That night was an awakening for Preston, who felt all the sensations of his body like never before, who for the first time in such a long time, felt truly alive. 

And that was two years ago now. His children were growing so fast they could hardly be called children anymore, thriving in this new and brighter world. Jurgen was away, but due home tonight. As many times as they had been parted, Preston always felt it like an ache between his ribs. He twisted the ring on his left hand anxiously, the ring Jurgen had given him a year ago now, the twin to the one Jurgen wore on his own hand. 

The door slid back almost noiselessly, but Preston heard it, sprang up from his seat, and rushed to meet his husband. 

Much later, after the welcome-home kisses, the unpacking of clothes, the making and eating of dinner, and the children heading off to their bedrooms, likely to spend the next hour engaging in some sort of creative activity even if it was just angsty pre-teen poetry, Jurgen and Preston found themselves alone, sitting together at the kitchen table. "Come to bed with me?" Preston said, holding out a hand. 

Jurgen took it in both of his and then they were leaning together across the corner of the table, and Preston was kissing Jurgen, the faint taste of sweet tea lingering on his lips. "I missed you," Jurgen said softly. 

"Yeah?" Preston found himself whispering and suddenly wanted to unwrap Jurgen like a present, pull off his own clothing, and crawl as close to him as possible. He found himself pulling Jurgen up and then they were kissing again, stumbling toward the bedroom between kisses, pulling off clothing. By the time they reached the bedroom Jurgen was mostly naked and Preston was missing a shirt and his shoes. The door whooshed shut and Preston pushed Jurgen toward the bed, resisting the urge to just rip what remained of his clothes off. He attended to his own clothing instead but his eyes promised that if Jurgen didn't get rid of his underwear immediately, Preston couldn't be held responsible for the consequences. 

Once Preston had shed what was left of his clothing, Jurgen was completely nude, waiting for him, arranged in a tempting pose with his head propped up by a hand. Preston found himself growling with need, loving the sensation of feeling so abandoned, and pounced on his husband. 

"Mine," he whispered into Jurgen's ear, and traced the delicate outside of it with his tongue. Jurgen shivered deliciously underneath him, and Preston turned his attention to his husband's neck, a famously sensitive area. He couldn't help but love the moans he drew from Jurgen's throat, the soft vibrato of his voice lost in pleasure. 

His hand slid down Jurgen's body to grasp his cock, already hard. Jurgen gasped and raised his head so their lips could meet. Preston took the time to kiss Jurgen thoroughly, bringing their bodies together. Their erections brushed and both gasped as the kiss broke. Preston reached to the table beside the bed and took some Slick on his fingers, reaching underneath Jurgen and pressing inward, carefully. 

They didn't often do this, in fact Preston could count on both hands the number of times it had been. But tonight he needed to bury himself in Jurgen, to be utterly overcome at the feel of their bodies moving together. And Jurgen needed this too, Preston could tell from the way he let his legs fall open, from the look of utter bliss on his face. 

Preston got to his knees and slid the remainder of the Slick over his erection, then stroking Jurgen's as well, just because it was there and he could. He pushed into Jurgen's body, watching his face tense up and then relax, eyes drifting closed. Preston didn't want to shut his eyes, wanted to watch the overwhelming passion on Jurgen's face, but the sensation was too much. Blind, he thrust his hips, hearing Jurgen's drawn-out groan. 

His hand moved to Jurgen's erection. As he pushed in, he stroked Jurgen's cock, eyes open now, concentrating on Jurgen's pleasure too much to get lost in his own. Before long Jurgen was coming, head thrown back, throat exposed. Preston wanted to bite there, just gently, but couldn't reach. Jurgen's eyes opened as he came down from the orgasm, and he smiled, reaching a hand up and just very softly, tenderly, brushing a finger across Preston's hardened nipple. That, with the feel of Jurgen's body still clenching around him and the happy, open, look on his face, was all it took for Preston to come, overwhelmed. 

They collapsed together onto the bed, Jurgen turning to his side and tracing a hand across Preston's hip, the smile on his face saying all kinds of wonderful things. 

"Good, isn't it?" Jurgen said finally, fingers running through Preston's hair. 

"Gets better with time," Preston said, throwing an arm over Jurgen's shoulders, drawing him close. They lay silent for some moments, and Preston moved slightly to switch off the lights, finding that Jurgen, in his arms, was already fast asleep. He pulled a blanket up from the side of the bed, tossing it over both of them, and watched his husband sleep. 

Love was the strangest sensation of all. Other emotions could be stamped on by oppressive governments, eroded with chemicals, dulled with time, lost to distance or to age, but love could blossom at a touch and last until the stars went out. It changed and burned anew every day. It was a long time ago now, felt like centuries, but here, now, looking at Jurgen, he could remember the words Partridge said, just before his death. More than that, he understood them. They were about love, the vulnerability you give someone you love.

"Tread softly," he breathed against Jurgen's skin, "for you tread on my dreams." 

 


End file.
